


in your arms (i find peace)

by margctbishop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Philinda one-shot, feedback is appreciated :), last night's episode shook me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margctbishop/pseuds/margctbishop
Summary: It's been a long life, a lonely one at times, definitely unforgiving.Melinda May longs for peace. Phil Coulson is all too happy to provide it.Post-framework Philinda fluff.





	in your arms (i find peace)

just a whole lot of Philinda fluffy goodness

* * *

 

The first thing she notices is the sun peeking from between the gap in the curtains, and she hazily notes that she must've slept too late for her morning Tai Chi with Daisy. Though, she can't bring herself to feel too terribly about it, because the second thing she notices- well, _feels_ , really- is how warm she is, how comfortably she's tucked in the crook of a neck, how steady the heartbeat is beneath her head, how mildly possessive the arm wrapped around her upper body is.

How at _peace_ she feels.

Peace is an odd feeling for Melinda May. The confines of her mind proved to be a wicked place in the years following Bahrain, only somewhat remedied by Tai Chi or bourbon, depending on the day. And even then, the sins of her past loomed just out of sight, never far enough away for her to ever acquire a taste for relief. It quickly became a cycle Melinda had been forced to accept. But here she is, wrapped in the arms of a man with whom she'd never dared cross the proverbial line, missing her morning Tai Chi, not a drop of bourbon in sight, but finally, _finally_ , at peace.

A hand threading through her hair startles her slightly, and she angles her face upward, finding familiar blue eyes peering down at her.

"Good morning," he says, and _oh God_ , the way he's goofily grinning down at her sends her stomach into a fit of upper-level gymnastics tricks. She allows a quirk of her lips, nuzzling her face back into his neck, and simply hums in agreement. The hand in her hair doesn't still, and she quickly finds that she likes it, finds the steady rhythm soothing. She trails her hand across his bare chest, down his other arm and links his free hand with hers, pulling it closer to her body, but not before he lifts her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. A grin spreads across her own, and she shakes her head slightly.

"Such a dork," she teases affectionately.

"Guilty," he says. She can hear in his voice the grin that she knows is on his face, and before she can exhibit any form of restraint (it is rather early, after all), she's straining her neck to kiss him.

It takes him a minute to stop grinning like a fool and kiss her back, but when he does, it's slow, unhurried, unlike the night before, and the love flowing between them seems almost tangible, like an aura surrounding them and keeping the rest of the world out. At least for the time being. The slow part of the kiss lasts a whole 5 seconds, because she finds that it's much more comfortable on top of him rather than beside him and makes quick work of what little space was between them to begin with. She threads her fingers through his hair, lightly scraping her fingernails against his scalp, and he likes that quite a bit if the low groan he lets out is any indication. She smiles, wonders how long it'll take for them to figure out all of the other's sweet spots. When his mouth finds its way beneath her ear not a minute later and he has to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep her from waking the base, she concludes it won't take very long at all.

* * *

 

"What does that mean?" He lightly traces the slightly faded symbol on the side of her rib cage with his fingertips, causing shivers to run up her spine.

"It's the Chinese symbol for forgiveness," she explains, propped up beside him, chin resting in the palm of her hand. They're both still damp from the shower, the pillow beneath her head soaked from her hair. It's past noon, and other than Phil making a quick run downstairs for food, they haven't left his room. Nobody seems to mind too much. They're all shaken from the previous days, coping in their own ways. It'll take a bit for things to settle, but Melinda has faith that, eventually, they'll all be alright.

"It's crazy that all this time I never knew you had a tattoo," he says, and she just shrugs slightly.

"It's not that crazy. Circumstances never condoned such realizations," she says. He narrows his eyes slightly, quirking his eyebrows.

"If that's your way of telling me that I should've made a move sooner..." He pauses, takes in her raised eyebrows and slight grin, and sighs. "You're absolutely right."

"Well, you're not completely to blame," she says. And then, "I _did_ get married." The hand drawing patterns across her tattoo stills, and he looks down at her, only to find a barely contained smirk on her mouth. He barks out a laugh, and soon they're both in a fit of giggles.

If someone had walked in then and asked them why they were hysterically laughing, neither could have given a definite answer. Maybe relief, that despite the years and years of running in circles around each other, they somehow found their way back together. Maybe that despite _both_ of their deaths and countless _near_ -death experiences, they are (by the grace of God) still breathing. They're breathing, and they're happy, happy to bask in the company of the person they adore most in the world. Maybe it's the realization that they can finally admit it, both to themselves and each other, that yes, they most certainly do adore each other. Or maybe they're both just a little sleep-deprived and shaken from the days before, and that's why they're rolling around in linen sheets at 1pm on a Wednesday afternoon like a couple of teenagers, tears streaming down their faces and laugh lines seemingly permanently etched in the corners of their eyes.

But whatever it is, peace now resonates within her soul, within her heart, which was once cold and tired but now overflows with warmth. They might have taken an obscene number of years get here, but if you ask Melinda May, that just makes it all the sweeter.

____

* * *

happily accepting prompts :) drop them in the comment section!


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